NOVEL NEXT Chapter 374
Karem’s worry was dispelled right after the mention that Auger’s modifications were complete, thanks to Zigmeser and the seven Dwarf chefs.
Did Catherine foresee this and told them to hold on just a little longer?
“I’ve absorbed the recipe and precautions completely.”
“What? Already?”
I never expected him to have fully absorbed it.
It’s said that no one could match a Dwarf when it came to handling fire, and Zigmeser proudly presented that evidence in a bite-sized piece.
The proof was none other than brisket.
Not a chunk, not a strip.
Just a single piece.
To be specific, just two finger-sized bits.
His reply to the look questioning if that was all was an excuse that he had absentmindedly eaten the rest. However, that one bite still lingered in Karem’s mind.
It was truly a fantastic taste.
At any rate, thanks to Zigmeser and the seven Dwarves, Karem was completely liberated from the tasks of the anticipated Memorial Day.
Though, he still had to make the round trips to Bendleig every few days. There wasn’t much to worry about given the time he had left.
Thus, with his leisure restored, Karem…
Crunch- Crunch- Crunch-
“What’s up, Karem? Have you peeled all the turnips? There’s still quite a bit left.”
“And you, Second Prince?”
He was busy carving turnips.
“By the way, do we do this turnip peeling every Memorial Day?”
“Yep.”
Godwin, the head of the Felwinter siblings who had come to the Mage Tower to carve turnips together, delicately scooped out the insides of the turnip.
“Ugh, this turnip is tougher than I thought. More than that, Karem. I’m not forcing you, so if you don’t want to make it—”
“No, that’s not it.”
Karem immediately grasped the knife and sliced the top off the turnip.
“A memorial festival. A carved turnip for decoration. It feels a bit like Halloween.”
Each holiday has its symbolic food: soup on New Year’s Day, songpyeon during Chuseok, and Santa Claus at Christmas. Just like a pumpkin head for Halloween, it seems the turnip head represents Memorial Day.
If there’s a prejudice that isn’t fitting for the times, well, it’s like the Catholic cross. There’s no way to deny that.
Karem figured there’d be some kind of symbol for Memorial Day. However, he never anticipated that it would be a turnip head.
“…Wait, you mean that’s supposed to be made that easily?”
“I knew you were strong from what I saw, but that seems a bit too fast.”
This must also be thanks to the blessing of the gods. Plus, it might have something to do with the Dragon Lord tail meat.
Of course, since he couldn’t disclose this, Karem just shrugged off Robin, who was astonished, with a single word.
“It’s talent, that’s all.”
“If being strong is talent, then I suppose it is. But beyond that, Karem, didn’t we suggest this? Is it okay to just sit here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you were busy, didn’t you?”
“Well, I did say that.”
Even Karem didn’t expect to suddenly have free time like this.
“Sir Zigmeser said he had absorbed everything so it should be fine to take a break.”
Karem casually responded as he set down the knife and picked up the carved turnip. A jolly face like that of a Jack-o’-lantern was carved into it.
“Besides, you all are the ones who came to carve turnip heads with me.”
“Not me. It was our Tu-sil who dragged me here even after I said I was busy.”
William pointed with his finger to the side. There, Alicia was diligently scooping out the insides of her turnip with a spoon.
“Hmm? Did you call me, Alicia?”
“Nothing at all.”
The girl tilted her head in confusion but returned to focusing on her turnip carving at the gesture to continue with what she was doing.
“So, what do we use this head for?”
“The carved head is for decoration with a candle inside, set around the house like lanterns, and then eaten after the Memorial Day is over.”
I thought it would be something like that, but I didn’t expect it to be treated like a Jack-o’-lantern.
Though the material isn’t pumpkin, it’s still a turnip.
“Turnip lanterns placed around the tomb are burned.”
“Tomb? Isn’t that for cremation?”
Iceland is a place where if a corpse is buried, undead naturally arise. Even if it’s not buried, they can become undead depending on the season.
“Even if you burn a corpse, the remains are still there. Nobles usually keep the bones in the family tomb, while commoners let the winds scatter them, I’ve heard.”
“Don’t you keep them in the tomb?”
“Land isn’t free. I’ve heard you can pay to have them stored in the temple.”
William’s shrugging remark made sense.
Well, if you consider Iceland like Korea, then Coldon would be the capital that mirrors Seoul. There might be different regions in Iceland, but in an expensive area, it’s only natural that there would be more of the latter than former.
“However, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tomb.”
“Of course you wouldn’t see it since it’s underground in the main palace.”
Robin, who had finished carving his small turnip lantern, stretched his fingers, which were sore from working.
“What would there be to go underground for on a regular basis?”
“Underground…”
Having lived in Winterhome for years, Karem had never had an interest in going underground, but he knew how to get there. He just never had a reason to visit. With that, his imagination took flight.
“First off, there must be a prison.”
It was said that the tower’s prison usually holds troublesome guests, so it’s more likely to be found underground.
Normally, the basement of such a castle would be a dungeon; that’s a cliché.
“So when do we go to that underground tomb?”
“When it’s all done? We still need to leave the turnip lantern behind.”
“Well, leaving it behind is something we can do, even amidst our busyness.”
“Oh, right! This Memorial Day special menu!”
Godwin, who had been meticulously carving the turnip lantern, exclaimed.
“You only made barbecue for Alicia, how unfair!”
“Do you really need to bring that up now?”
“Isn’t that barbecue? My goodness. I could smell it and even dreamed about it!”
Karem felt wronged.
“No, I made that because the princess wanted to reconcile. If you’re going to complain, you should take it up with Duke Richard, who favors the princess. Complaining to me is—”
“That doesn’t erase the fact that only Alicia got to eat it!”
“If you wait just a bit, you can have as much as you want.”
After all, eight Dwarves were tirelessly preparing the initial barbecue for the Memorial Day feast day and night.
“Eating it then isn’t exactly the same as eating it now.”
“I certainly can’t fathom why you guys would get all worked up over this.”
Robin shot a bored glare at them.
“Is that really such a big deal?”
“You know nothing.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know. I’ve never tasted it or even caught a whiff of it.”
Suddenly, a snickering sound echoed. Alicia, flaunting her superiority, lifted her head.
“…What’s with that pig all of a sudden?”
“Perhaps she’s mocking the Third Prince, who hasn’t even had barbecue.”
“That sounds about right.”
Robin’s expression twisted in annoyance. To think I’d be mocked by such a pig. Naturally, curiosity piqued.
“What could barbecue possibly be that they’re making such a fuss over?”
Having never tasted or even heard of barbecue, Robin simply couldn’t comprehend. That’s fine. Soon enough, he would understand.
“Let’s hurry and place these lanterns before the two youngest start fighting.”
“Sounds good. Alright, you little ones, stand up.”
Karem, who left the turnip lantern in a corner of the kitchen, followed the Felwinter siblings out of the tower. Sure enough, the places in Winterhome were decorated with turnip lanterns as William had mentioned.
At the entrances, thresholds, window frames, eaves, under the columns, etc., big and small turnip lanterns were gathered together. Some folks were still coming and going, transporting more.
For the first time, he went down the central staircase of the main palace, which he usually just ascended. Generally, the underground is dark and dingy, but contrary to that prejudice, it was tidy and clean.
“What’s with that sudden expression?”
“Oh, nothing. Just… I’m let down since it’s cleaner than I expected.”
“Did you think it would be a dungeon or something?”
“Exactly that.”
“There shouldn’t be anything like that in Winterhome.”
Well, unless they couldn’t afford to hire people, it shouldn’t be dirty. This is the Felwinter family we’re talking about; I can’t imagine they’d leave it filthy.
“I’ve heard it was so old and dilapidated it could rival a dungeon.”
Robin murmured as he tossed the turnip in the air and caught it again.
“I heard the Snow Elves were entrusted to renovate it when they restructured Winterhome.”
“They renovated it?”
“Apparently, the old Winterhome was modest to call it a castle. I heard it was the last task Grandfather did before handing down the title to Father.”
“That’s why it feels so new and fresh.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
The current Winterhome is younger, almost childlike compared to the castles scattered throughout Iceland that date back to the Ancient Palatino Empire.
“Still, I heard they couldn’t touch the family tomb.”
“The tomb is a different story.”
William, whose gaze was drawn to the turnip lanterns scattered underground, turned his head.
“I think our ancestors would prefer a new and clean tomb.”
“Hmm… Alicia would probably hate it if we tried to change her affectionate blanket.”
The Felwinter siblings tilted their heads, wondering if that was really the case. Karem could understand a bit.
It’s naturally burdensome to change familiar objects and spaces.
Especially for the bones of Felwinter ancestors that are older than the kingdom’s history—it only makes sense to be more cautious.
“Here, this is the tomb.”
Thus, upon arriving at the underground tomb, it certainly looked as if it deserved some caution.
In stark contrast to the cleanliness above, there were worn walls and floor, aging gracefully, with numerous little stone sarcophagi behind scattered statues that each bore different looks.
From a certain distance inward, the statues were gone, and only the sarcophagi lined up, creating a space that just looking at was depressing.
The solemn tomb, reminiscent of a dungeon in Skyrim, appeared, perhaps, decorated by the servants, as cheerful light from turnip lanterns flickered around.
“Godwin. Around Grandmother?”
“Of course.”
William trudged over and placed a turnip lantern next to a woman’s statue that was left with an open space beside it and lit it.
“This should be good.”
“If it’s Grandmother—”
“Yes. Rosetta Felwinter.”
Unlike the other statues, whose features were hazy, the statue of Rosetta Felwinter had a form that seemed so vivid, reminiscent of ancient Greek and Roman sculptures, as if it could move at any moment.
“Only the statue of Lady Rosetta seems to have been made with extra care.”
“I suppose they had no choice but to do so without the money.”
“Oh.”
I never thought I’d see the history of the Felwinter family’s poverty like this. It was evident that many sarcophagi lacked even a hastily made statue.
In proportion, it was about 70 to 30.
“Now, enough chit-chat. Let’s decorate and go scrumptious snack from Karem.”
“Alicia already placed hers!”
“…Am I suddenly the one making it?”
“I’d rather not join a pig’s endeavor, but that pepperoni pizza—”
As the five departed, a quiet atmosphere returned to the tomb.
Amidst the light from the magic lanterns and turnip lanterns illuminating the darkness, a delicious smell wafted in from outside.
One of the statues trembled faintly.